"I must get to work again," muttered he, as he left M. de Breulh'shospitable house. "I have already lost too much time. To-morrow, ifyou look up at the scaffolding of a splendid house in the ChampsElysees, you will see me at work."Andre was busy all night with his plans for the rich contractor, M.
Gandelu, who wanted as much ornamental work on the outside of hishouse as he had florid decorations within. He rose with the lark, andhaving gazed for a moment on Sabine's portrait, started for the abodeof M. Gandelu, the proud father of young Gaston. This celebratedcontractor lived in a splendid house in the Rue Chasse d'Antin, untilhis more palatial residence should be completed.
When Andre presented himself at the door, an old servant, who knew himwell, strongly urged him not to go up.
"Never," said he, "in all the time that I have been with master, haveI seen him in such a towering rage. Only just listen!"It was easy to hear the noise alluded to, mingled with the breaking ofglass and the smashing of furniture.
"The master has been at this game for over an hour," remarked theservant, "ever since his lawyer, M. Catenac, has left him."Andre, however, decided not to postpone his visit. "I must see him inspite of everything; show me up," said he.
With evident reluctance the domestic obeyed, and threw open the doorof a room superbly furnished and decorated, in the centre of whichstood M. Gandelu waving the leg of a chair frantically in his hand. Hewas a man of sixty years of age, but did not look fifty, built like aHercules, with huge hands and muscular limbs which seemed to fretunder the restraint of his fashionable garments. He had made hisenormous fortune, of which he was considerably proud, by honest labor,and no one could say that he had not acted fairly throughout his wholecareer. He was coarse and violent in his manner, but he had a generousheart and never refused aid to the deserving and needy. He swore likea trooper, and his grammar was faulty; but for all that, his heart wasin the right place, and he was a better man than many who boast ofhigh birth and expensive education.
"What idiot is coming here to annoy me?" roared he, as soon as thedoor was opened.
"I have come by appointment," answered Andre, and the contractor'sbrow cleared as he saw who his visitor was.
"Ah, it is you, is it? Take a seat; that is, if there is a sound chairleft in the room. I like you, for you have an honest face and don'tshirk hard work. You needn't color up, though; modesty is no fault.
Yes, there is something in you, and when you want a hundred thousandfrancs to go into business with, here it is ready for you; and had I adaughter, you should marry her, and I would build your house for you.""I thank you much," said Andre; "but I have learned to depend entirelyon myself.""True," returned Gandelu, "you never knew your parents; you never knewwhat a kind father would do for his child. Do you know my son?" askedhe, suddenly turning upon Andre.
This question at once gave Andre the solution of the scene before him.
M. Gandelu was irritated at some folly that his son had committed. Fora moment Andre hesitated; he did not care to say anything that mightrevive the old man's feeling of anger, and therefore merely repliedthat he had only met his son Gaston two or three times.
"Gaston," cried the old man, with a bitter oath; "do not call himthat. Do you think it likely that old Nicholas Gandelu would ever havebeen ass enough to call his son Gaston? He was called Peter, after hisgrandfather, but it wasn't a good enough one for the young fool; hewanted a swell name, and Peter had too much the savor of hard work init for my fine gentleman. But that isn't all; I could let that pass,"continued the old man. "Pray have you seen his cards? Over the name ofGaston de Gandelu is a count's coronet. He a count indeed! the son ofa man who has carried a hod for years!""Young people will be young people," Andre ventured to observe; butthe old man's wrath would not be assuaged by a platitude like this.
"You can find no excuse for him, only the fellow is absolutely ashamedof his father. He consorts with titled fools and is in the seventhheaven if a waiter addresses him as 'Count,' not seeing that it is nothe that is treated with respect, but the gold pieces of his oldfather, the working man."Andre's position was now a most painful one, and he would have given agood deal not to be the recipient of a confidence which was the resultof anger.
"He is only twenty, and yet see what a wreck he is," resumed Gandelu.
"His eyes are dim, and he is getting bald; he stoops, and spends hisnights in drink and bad company. I have, however, only myself toblame, for I have been far too lenient; and if he had asked me for myhead, I believe that I should have given it to him. He had only to askand have. After my wife's death, I had only the boy. Do you know whathe has in this house? Why, rooms fit for a prince, two servants andfour horses. I allow him monthly, fifteen hundred francs, and he goesabout calling me a niggard, and has already squandered every bit ofhis poor mother's fortune." He stopped, and turned pale, for at thatmoment the door opened, and young Gaston, or rather Peter, slouchedinto the room.
"It is the common fate of fathers to be disappointed in theiroffspring, and to see the sons who ought to have been their honor andglory the scourge to punish their worldly aspirations," exclaimed theold man.
"Good! that is really a very telling speech," murmured Gastonapprovingly, "considering that you have not made a special study ofelocution."Fortunately his father did not catch these words, and continued in avoice broken by emotion, "That, M. Andre, is my son, who for twentyyears has been my sole care. Well, believe it or not, as you like, hehas been speculating on my death, as you might speculate on a race-horse at Vincennes.""No, no," put in Gaston, but his father stopped him with a disdainfulgesture.
"Have at least the courage to acknowledge your fault. You thought meblind because I said nothing, but your past conduct has opened myeyes.""But, father!""Do not attempt to deny it. This very morning my man of business, M.
Catenac, wrote to me, and with that real courage which only truefriends possess, told me all. I must tell you, M. Andre," resumed thecontractor, "I was ill. I had a severe attack of the gout, such as aman seldom recovers from, and my son was constant in his attendance atmy sick couch. This consoled me. 'He loves me after all,' said I. Butit was only my testamentary arrangements that he wanted to discover,and he went straight to a money-lender called Clergot and raised ahundred thousand francs assuring the blood-sucker that I had not manyhours to live.""It is a lie!" cried Gaston, his face crimsoning with shame.
The old man raised the leg of the chair in his hand, and made sothreatening a movement that Andre flung himself between father andson. "Great heavens!" cried he, "think what you are doing, sir, andforbear."The old man paused, passed his hand round his brow, and flung theweapon into a remote corner of the room. "I thank you," said he,grasping Andre's hand; "you have saved me from a great crime. Inanother moment I should have murdered him."Gaston was no coward, and he still retained the position he had beenin before.
"This is quite romantic," muttered he. "The governor seems to be goingin for infanticide."Andre did not allow him to finish the sentence, for, grasping theyoung man's wrist, he whispered fiercely, "Not another word; silence!""But I want to know what it all means?" answered the irrepressibleyouth.
"I had in my hands," said the old man, addressing Andre, and ignoringthe presence of his son, "the important paper he had copied. Yes; notmore than an hour ago I read it. These were the terms: if I diedwithin eight days from the date of signature, my son agreed to pay abonus of thirty thousand francs; but if I lived for one month, hewould take up the bill by paying one hundred and fifty thousand. If,however, by any unforeseen chance, I should recover entirely, he boundhimself to pay Clergot the hundred thousand francs."The old man tore the cravat from his swelling throat, and wiped thebeads of cold sweat that bedewed his brow.
"When this man recovers his self-command," thought Andre, "he willnever forgive me for having been the involuntary listener to thisterrible tale." But in this Andre was mistaken, for unsophisticatednature requires sympathy, and Nichols Gandelu would have said the sameto the first comer.
"Before, however, delivering the hundred thousand francs, the usurerwished to make himself more secure, and asked for a certificate fromsome one who had seen me. This person was his friend. He spoke to meof a medical man, a specialist, who would understand my case at once.
Would I not see him? Never had I seen my son so tender andaffectionate. I yielded to his entreaties at last, and one evening Isaid to him, 'Bring in this wonderful physician, if you really thinkhe can do anything for me,' and he did bring him.
"Yes, M. Andre, he found a medical man base and vile enough to becomethe tool of my son, and a money-lender; and if I choose, I can exposehim to the loathing of the world, and the contempt of his brethren.
"The fellow came, and his visit lasted nearly an hour. I can see himnow, asking questions and feeling my pulse. He went away at last, andmy son followed him. They both met Clergot, who was waiting in thestreet. 'You can pay him the cash; the old man won't last twenty-fourhours longer,' said the doctor; and then my son came back happy andradiant, and assured me that I should soon be well again. And strangeas it may seem, a change for the better took place that very night.
Clergot had asked for forty-eight hours in which to raise the sumrequired. He heard of my convalescence, and my son lost the money.
"Was it courage you lacked?" asked the old man, turning for the firsttime to his son. "Did you not know that ten drops instead of one ofthe medicine I was taking would have freed you from me for ever?"Gaston did not seem at all overwhelmed. Indeed, he was wondering howthe matter had reached his father's ears, and how Catenac haddiscovered the rough draft of the agreement.
The contractor had imagined that his son would implore forgiveness;but seeing that he remained obdurate, his violence burst forth again.
"And do you know what use my son would make of my fortune? He wouldsquander it on a creature he picked up out of the streets,--a woman hecalled Madame de Chantemille,--a fit companion for a noble count!"The shaft had penetrated the impassability which Gaston had up to thisdisplayed. "You should not insult Zora," said he.
"I shall not," returned his father with a grim laugh, "take thetrouble to do that; you are not of age, and I shall clap your friendMadame de Chantemille into prison.""You would not do that!""Would I not? You are a minor; but your Zora, whose real name is Rose,is much older; the law is wholly on my side.""But father--""There is no use in crying; my lawyer has the matter in hand, and bynightfall your Zora will be securely caged."This blow was so cruel and unexpected, that the young man could onlyrepeat,--"Zora in prison!""Yes, in the House of Correction, and from thence to Saint Lazare.
Catenac told me the very things to be done.""Shameful!" exclaimed Gaston, "Zora in prison! Why, I and my friendswill lay siege to the place. I will go to the Court, stand by herside, and depose that this all comes from your devilish malignity. Iwill say that I love and esteem her, and that as soon as I am of age Iwill marry her; the papers will write about us. Go on, go on; I ratherlike the idea."However great a man's self-control may be, it has its limits. M.
Gandelu had restrained himself even while he told his son of hisvillainous conduct; but these revolting threats were more than hecould endure, and Andre seeing this, stepped forward, opened the door,and thrust the foolish youth into the corridor.
"What have you done" cried the contractor; "do you not see that hewill go and warn that vile creature, and that she will escape fromjustice?"And as Andre, fearing he knew not what, tried to restrain him, the oldman, exerting all his muscular strength, thrust him on one side withperfect ease, and rushed from the room, calling loudly to hisservants.
Andre was horrified at the scene at which, in spite of himself, he hadbeen compelled to assist as a witness. He was not a fool, and hadlived too much in the world of art not to have witnessed many strangescenes and met with many dissolute characters; but, as a rule, thefollies of the world had amused rather than disgusted him. But thisdisplay of want of feeling on the part of a son toward a fatherabsolutely chilled his blood. In a few minutes M. Gandelu appearedwith a calmer expression upon his face.
"I will tell you how matters now stand," said he, in a voice thatquivered in spite of his efforts. "My son is locked up in his room,and a trustworthy servant whom he cannot corrupt has mounted guardover him.""Do you not fear, sir, that in his excitement and anger he may----?"The contractor shrugged his shoulders.
"You do not know him," answered he, "if you imagine that he resemblesme in any way. What do you think that he is doing now? Lying on hisbed, face downward, yelling for his Zora. Zora, indeed! As if that wasa name fit for a Christian. How is it that these creatures are enabledto drug our boys and lead them anywhere? Had his mother not been asaint on earth, I should scarcely believe that he was my son."The contractor sank into a chair and buried his face in his hands.
"You are in pain, sir?" said Andre.
"Yes; my heart is deeply wounded. Up to this time I have only felt asa father; now I feel as a man. To-morrow I send for my family andconsult with them; and I shall advertise that for the future I willnot be responsible for any debts that my son may contract. He shallnot have a penny, and will soon learn how society treats a man withempty pockets. As to the girl, she will disappear in double quicktime. I have thoroughly weighed the consequences of sending this girlto gaol, and they are very terrible. My son will do as he hasthreatened, I am sure of that; and I can picture him tied to thatinfamous creature for life, looking into her face, and telling herthat he adores her, and glorying in his dishonor, which will berepeated by every Parisian newspaper.""But is there no other way of proceeding?" asked Andre.
"No, none whatever. If all modern fathers had my courage, we shouldnot have so many profligate sons. It is impossible that thisconferring with the doctor and the money-lender could have originatedin my son's weak brain. He is a mere child, and some one must have puthim up to it."The poor father was already seeking for some excuse for the son'sconduct.
"I must not dwell on this longer," continued Gandelu, "or I shall getas mad as I was before. I will look at your plans another day. Now,let us get out of the house. Come and look at the new building in theChamps Elysees."The mansion in question was situated at the corner of the Rue deChantilly, near the Avenue des Champs Elysees, and the frontage of itwas still marked by scaffolding, so that but little of it could beseen. A dozen workmen, engaged by Andre, were lounging about. They hadexpected to see him early, and were surprised at his non-appearance,as he was usually punctuality itself. Andre greeted them in a friendlymanner, but M. Gandelu, though he was always on friendly terms withhis workmen, passed by them as if he did not even notice theirexistence. He walked through the different rooms and examined themcarelessly, without seeming to take any interest in them, for histhoughts were with his son,--his only son.
After a short time he returned to Andre.
"I cannot stay longer," said he; "I am not feeling well; I will behere to-morrow;" and he went away with his head bent down on hischest.
The workmen noticed his strange and unusual manner.
"He does not look very bright," remarked one to his comrade. "Sincehis illness he has not been the same man. I think he must have hadsome terrible shock."
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